


Her Name Had Been Jenny

by Tricksterburd



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Angst, Friendship only, Gen, No actual shippings, WWII, War theme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 08:11:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tricksterburd/pseuds/Tricksterburd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the time the United States had entered the Second World War Rabbit simply wanted to help whomever he could.  And there had been about five of his friends calling for him to get them out of the line of fire.  And he had been so focused on them that he hadn’t been watching where he was walking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Name Had Been Jenny

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Steam Powered Giraffe. Sorry for the sad feels.

Her name had been Jenny.

The robots had been outfitted, ages ago, with “sensors.”  They lacked a better word for it, to be honest.  The idea was that when they interacted with the public at shows, or with soldiers, they would be able to “feel” how tight they were gripping the person and would stop themselves from causing injury.  That was how it started, at least.  Then it was decided that it would be a good idea if the bots could “feel” whey they were overheating or low on water, rather than having to rely on a gauge and humans to tell them.  It just sort of kept growing, until the automatons were able to “feel” such changes as “hot,” “cold,” “soft,” “hard,” “sharp,” and “dull.”

Feel. 

What a novel idea.  And a fun toy!  Rabbit rather enjoyed the plush carpets and pillows that littered the house and green rooms of gigs they sang at.  The Spine had developed a “fondness” for satin, though he’d never admit that he could hold such an emotion.  The Jon loved the wispy touch of feathers, and had taken to putting them in his hat and on his capo for his guitar so he could pet them during shows.  It was odd.  Endearing, but odd.

They didn’t really understand these new sensations, though.  It was something fun to explore in their down time, but never really mattered much to any of them.  Sure it would come in handy when judging when to end a set, or refill their boilers.  But beyond that the three of them never connected the sensors to anything majorly important. 

Until Rabbit stepped on a landmine.

Her name had been Jenny.

By the time the United States had entered the Second World War, land mines had become almost popular.  They weren’t too big of a concern in Europe at the start of the war, but at the end it was difficult to know where they were and weren’t.  Not all of them were metal, and a language barrier could come at the worst times. 

Men had been falling left and right.  Over the last several months the platoon of Americans had become quite fond of their singing copper comrade, and he had become protective of them.  So when they had been attacked, Rabbit simply wanted to help whomever he could.

And there had been about five of his friends calling for him to get them out of the line of fire.

And he had been so focused on them that he hadn’t been watching where he was walking.

All he knew was that there had been a sound from under him that popped in his microphones.  All he knew was that there had been a flash of movement so quick under him that eyes couldn’t keep up.  All he knew was that a burning had been racing through his metal frame, and his sensors were going off so fast they created their own burn.

This wasn’t a “reading” of what he should be feeling.  He could _feel_ exactly what was going on.

The unearthly howl that erupted from his own voice speakers took him by surprised, as it did the humans on the field around him.  Both sides stopped their fight, stunned and frightened by the ghastly noise none had expected, or had ever experienced in their worst of nightmares. 

Rabbit lay on the field, shaking so hard his plates rattled against his structure and bolts started to work themselves loose.  His legs were gone.  That’s all he could honestly tell you, though at the moment he couldn’t really tell anyone anything.  His right foot had been the one to find the landmine, taking it almost totally off and leaving only a twisted melted lump of copper where a thigh would have been had he been human.  His left leg hadn’t escaped; everything below the knee had become bent and distorted, the ankle and foot joints completely missing.  Over all, the damage wasn’t beyond repair, and it wasn’t as massive as it could have been had it been a tank mine. 

But Rabbit finally understood what humans meant when they cried out in pain.  It wasn’t at all like running out of water; when his boiler was dry he’d feel something the equivalent of a human itch, his sensors and warnings ringing in the background until he went and did something about it.  It was annoying, but something that could be ignored.

This… someone might as well have built him out of wood and set him on fire. 

And the screaming.  It was soul shattering in that he had no control over the volume, over the sound, over any of it.  It poured from his voice box speakers and deafened anyone that came near him.  But it didn’t last. The volume, after a time, shook the glue and magnets free, breaking the amplifier, only allowing a garbled wretched static into the air.  It was quieter, but it wasn’t any better.  The fight had ended with Rabbit’s cry of pain.  The enemy had retreated, fear gripping them enough to defy their orders.  The Americans, on the other hand, picked their way to their fallen pals. 

“See if you can get Jerry, he took a blow to the head, we need to get him out fast.”

“Sure Rodger.  What about Rabbit?” 

Rodger, the platoon’s sergeant, dished out orders.  His leader, Second Lieutenant Duggers, lay dead on the grass not far from him.

“I’ll take care of it.  Send two or three others over; I can’t lift him on my own.”

“Yes sir.”

“Hey Rabbit.”  Rodger knelt by the robot, who was still writhing and trying in vain to shriek.  “I know, it’s not pleasant.  Can I turn you off?  Will that help?” 

Rabbit’s blue eye did not glow in the gloom of the early evening.  So that had been hit too huh?  His green eye, though, blazed with color and light and pain.  How could a light bulb, a camera in a sense, portray such an emotion?  Could robots even feel emotions?  Or pain?

Rodger now firmly held a “yes” in his hand as his jacket was gripped in spindly copper fingers.  Rabbit tried to form words, his voice broken, his receptors shouting to him that he had to scream _scream **screamSCREAM**_ because it hurt _so much_ but not a sound could pass from him.

Rodger wished the ‘bot had an off switch.  No one had ever told him how to power Rabbit down.  At night the metal man would take watch, as he didn’t have to sleep.  But when he was relieved of duty, he’d simply sit in a corner of the camp and become a pile of lifeless metal.  He’d turn off, shut down, stop existing until someone said his name or the sun came up.  Creepy as it was, Rodger Philips wished he could force the creature to do that right now.  Anything to turn off the pain.

Robots _could_ feel pain.  Anyone that ever told the army man differently would not only get an earful, but probably a good punch in the mouth. 

By the time the field ambulance arrived to take the men to help, by the time enough people could be mustered to lift Rabbit and his solid metal chassis from the ground, to find what was left of his legs and bring them along, Rabbit wasn’t moving much anymore.  His joints had worked themselves so loose he couldn’t get them to do what he wanted, his boiler was almost empty of water, his pipes dry of steam.  But pain, pain flared every tick of his clockwork heart, and he had no power to make it known.

Her name had been Jenny.

They didn’t put him in a bed.  Beds were for _people_ ; dying people, sick people, wounded people.  Not robots.  Robots couldn’t be hurt, they could only be damaged and repaired.  Robots didn’t sleep, they just powered off and on.  They didn’t need a bed.  Especially not one that was leaking oil and hydraulic fluid from his destroyed legs.  Really, the main reason was that he was leaking; hydraulic fluid is red, and mixing with black oil was almost a sickening sight.  And the thick black tar-like oil that flowed from under his eyes was almost human like in tears.  So they put him on a tarp in the corner, behind a screen, away from the recovering soldiers in his troop.

He was making them anxious.  While the field hospital staff was unnerved, the men he had worked with were worried.  No one around was a mechanic, not to the extent that Rabbit would need one.  And they couldn’t just let him sit there in agony.  It was Jerry that came up with the idea.

“He has that other robot, doesn’t he?  Like a brother?  What’s his name, the tall one.”

“Jon?”

“No, the other one.  The silver one.  Jon’s the bronze one with the feathers.”

“Spit, Spite, Spoon, Spine?”

“Spine!  That’s it!  The Spine!  Why can’t we get someone to find out where he is and get him down here to fix him?” 

So Rodgers spoke to the colonel, and the man (interested in removing the robot from his sickward) had someone get on it right away.

Her name had been Jenny.

She was of no one of importance.  A nurse; small, plain, kind.  The type of gal that the soldiers could fondly remember the voice and comfort of, but not a face or name.  Rabbit did.

Two days he had been on the tarp, his oil and boiler dry.  He had been awake the entire time, much to his own surprise.  It would seem that being in such sharp pain and distress forced him to remain active despite being empty of every ounce of life.  Nurse Jenny was on midnight duty when she noticed the quiet.  There was almost always some sort of noise in the post-op ward, the total silence was eerie.  No one was shifting in their beds, or scratching at their bandages, and the clockwork musician wasn’t rattling in the corner.  And that’s when she realized what was wrong.  Peering through a crack in the curtain she noted the lack of steam fogging up the windows that were above him. 

She returned a moment later with a pitcher of water.

Her name had been Jenny.

And she lifted Rabbit’s head into her lap.

And she gently poured water into his mouth, guessing that it worked much like it did for humans. 

She was rewarded with a splashing of water into the empty drum in his chest.

And a puff of steam from the vent on his neck as his core began to heat the water.

He had no oil left within his lines, so he couldn’t move.  He still shivered; a natural shifting from side to side from the piston that drove his gears and gave him life.  Without the ability to move he couldn’t counteract it and keep himself still.  It was heartbreaking.  But his working eye blinked into focus to try to record whoever was helping him in the moonlight.

Her hair was silver from stress of the war.  Her eyes were a grey that reflected his bright green eye and orange/red plated face.  She wore a simple silver ring around her wedding finger, a reminder of a fella back home that waited for her.  Everything was gleaming and clean and pure. 

“Hello.  I’m Jenny.”

Her name had been Jenny.

And he couldn’t answer her. 

The Spine had been having a rough week.  Five days ago, he had been notified that The Jon had disobeyed his commanding officer in the Air Corps, going off to do his own tasks rather than what he had been directed.  The Spine knew what was going on, Jon’s core was acting up again, the ‘bot didn’t know when he was at the time.  The humans didn’t understand.  The Jon was being shipped to The Spine for his “older brother” to look after him.  He had yet to arrive.

Two days ago, Spine had received word that Colonel Peter A. Walter the First had died in his sleep three weeks ago.  While Spine tried his best to convince himself that he was a robot that didn’t feel emotions (much to Rabbit’s displeasure) the smoke-stack-backed robot couldn’t deny the oil that followed the lines of his sharp face.  He could mourn his Pappy later; there was a war to fight now, humans to help and heal, and a younger robot to keep out of trouble.

And today, he had been given orders to pay a visit to the oldest of the three ‘bots.  Rabbit had been damaged in combat.  They didn’t specify what had happened; only that he was beyond what the humans could repair, and they were hoping he would be of help to them.  Jon was to wait for Spine at the docks where the Navy was stationed at the moment, and not enter the ship Spine was stationed on until silvery automaton returned. 

Late in the evening Spine had arrived at the hospital Rabbit and his injured humans were residing in.  One look at Rabbit’s legs, and The Spine was grateful that the three of them were NOT human.  By all rights, Rabbit should have been dead.  If he were human, he would have been.  Spine had spoken with the members of his older brother’s group, gathering pieces of Rabbit and the story at the same time.  And he set to work in the junk yard not far off.  He was just glad they hadn’t dumped Rabbit there when they brought him in four days ago. 

He found out later that her name had been Jenny.

“I rather like these.  They’re bagels, do you like them?  Can you even eat?”

Rabbit liked listening to Jenny ramble on about nothing.  He didn’t always understand what she was saying, and more often than not he couldn’t focus on her words anyway.  But her voice was comforting, and she made sure he had water, and took his mind off the pain that wouldn’t go away.  He had heard, faintly, that The Spine was here and was working to fix him.  He had apparently come in last night and was now in some scrap yard piecing metal together to help.  Rabbit wondered faintly if he was making that up in his own mind just to make this easier. 

But Jenny was there, and she was kind, and offered him water and food though he didn’t need to eat.  He couldn’t move anyway, lack of oil and loose joints did not a robot move.  But it was nice of her to try.  She had her other duties, though, and would leave him to tend to the other injured men in the ward.  Rabbit wondered if she was like The Spine, something his fear and pain addled mind had simply made up.  It had to be, he made her up and had given her a name.

Her name had been Jenny.

Just after the noon lunch call, Spine re-entered the hospital with a wrench and a pair of wire cutters.  Kneeling by Rabbit’s head he touched the copper plating gently.

“Rabbit?  I’m going to put you together okay?  Can you power down?”  Rabbit wasn’t even looking at him.  The gargled static was all the answer he received, it was obvious that Rabbit wasn’t even taking in any sights or sounds to his hard drive.  Steam billowed in a sigh from the smoke stacks on his back, The Spine quickly removed the uniform Rabbit was wearing, cut the wires, and unbolted the robot’s hips. 

Relief!  Suddenly the pain was gone, the heavy burning metal was removed from him, and Rabbit was allowed a moment of clarity.  There was The Spine with copper pelvis in hand, and behind him was a beautiful woman with silver hair and silver eyes and frightened face.  And then nothing.  He had finally been able to turn off now that his sensors were no longer blaring in his head.  The last his eye had taken in was the beautiful silver of his brother’s face and the nurse’s eyes.

Her name had been Jenny.

With Rabbit powered down The Spine was able to make quick work of reattaching the legs.  Rabbit would have a fit if he knew that Spine had created new legs for him, only to find out later that their creator was dead.  So he had worked all through the night and most of the morning to straighten the copper pipes, untwist the tubes and poles.  Now he had to re-solder the sensors and re-weld the frames back into one piece.  Reattach everything to the pivot joints.  And then reinstall on Rabbit.  Should be pretty simple. 

But Spine was no mechanic.  He could do the basic and put an end to Rabbit’s pain.  But he wasn’t perfect.  He didn’t have the finesse of their Pappy.  He did know, though, that Rabbit adored every ounce of work that their creator had put into them, and would refuse to have anything changed now that Peter was gone.  So he tried his best.  It was obvious, though, that one leg was shorter than the other.  And one leg wasn’t exactly straight.  But it would do until they were shipped back home. 

That nurse watched as he put the legs back on Rabbit.  She watched as the wires were connected and the tubes melted to seal the leaks.  She watched as oil was replaced and joints were tightened.  She didn’t comment, or suggest, or get in the way.  But when The Spine was done, she offered him a kiss on the cheek.

“He’s been in so much pain, it’s good that someone came to help him.  Thank you.”  If Spine could blush, he would have.

Her name had been Jenny.

And when Rabbit awoke, she wasn’t there.  She had other patience to attend to, her shift would be over soon, and he was to be shipped to the front once more now that he was working.  His stance changed; with one leg slightly longer than the other he didn’t stand perfectly straight anymore, but preferred to bend a tad at the knees.  He had once stood even with Spine, and was now a few inches shorter, the bent knees helping little in this endeavor.  But he was fit to return to duty again, even though his blue eye and voice box had yet to be repaired.  They weren’t needed in the line of fire.  Something Spine would take with him and work on and send to Rabbit later.  The copper ‘bot could install them himself.  What The Spine didn’t tell Rabbit was that he needed the little speaker to make a point.

Dropping the black box only a little larger than his thumb onto the desk of the Colonel of the hospital, The Spine stood to his full height, arms crossed over his navy uniform, steam puffing lightly from his back. 

“I see you fixed him.  Good, get him out of here.”

“With all due respect, sir, I have a question.”

“Of course you do.  And what might that be tin man?”

“Why was he still powered on when I arrived?”

“It’s not our job to look after your shiny metal rears.  You’re supposed to be looking after us.  He was only allowed to stay here and not in the trash heap because the boys from his unit rose a stink about it.”

“Do you realize he was suffering?”

“He’s a robot, you can’t feel pain.”

“Do you know what this is?”  The man shook his head, clearly annoyed at this conversation.  “This is our voice box.  Do you see the crack here?  This was caused because he was screaming in agony for longer than the speaker was made to allow.  Good day sir.”

The Spine snatched the box back up, turning on his heel and marching out the door.  He had a boat to catch.  The director of the hospital had the sudden urge to put a call into the Walter household back in the States.  He had a lot of learning to do. 

Her name had been Jenny.

Rabbit stood in Sears, gazing at the shining metal under the florescent lights of the department store.  There it was; a toaster that could toast six bagels at once.  Polished metal shining silver, reflecting his face back at him.  The Spine said that his hard drive had malfunctioned during the various wars when he had been damaged, explaining the gaps in his memory.  But this toaster, with its bagel button and reflective silver surface, stirred something.  Kind words, a pitcher of water, grey eyes that he could see himself in, quiet nonsense about bagels and horses and dragonflies. 

So he bought the toaster, and named her Jenny.  She was beautiful.  And Rabbit knew what love was. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Clockwork Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/516645) by [ViceCaptain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViceCaptain/pseuds/ViceCaptain)




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